Just the Tip of the Iceberg
by Livia2001
Summary: What if what House told Eve in 'One Day, One Room' was just the tip of the iceberg and Wilson triggers a flashback?WARNING: References to child abuse but no graphic details.
1. Chapter 1

_Really Long Authors note: I don't do slash, friendship is my thing :)_

_This is my first House fic and I don't have a beta so I welcome any constructive criticism! Especially since I don't feel I got the characters quite right dang-it. _

_This fic is based on the idea that…what if what House told that girl in 'One Day, One Room' was just the tip of the iceberg? And really it was kinda creepy how House's dad is SO interested in House's personal life given that he really didn't treat his son that well…and why is it that when House has a patient he thinks was abused, he always seems to assume that the abuse was of a sexual nature? If these questions spark off your creativity too I'd be interested in reading about it._

_**WARNING**: Be aware that this fic contains material that may offend some readers: Slight swearing and allusion to sexual abuse of a child. This was hard for me to write as I used some personal experience in writing this story._

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"You know there's this hilarious rumour going around that you and I are, you know, 'involved'." Wilson snickered derisively, not noticing that House had gone strangely pale, he did NOT want to picture Wilson like that.

"Heh…idiots." House muttered, knowing a response was expected.

Wilson glanced over at him and did a classic double take. "House? You ok? Oh man I knew we were pushing in with that many vodka shots. You gonna throw up?"

House swallowed hard and shook his head, although he did feel faintly nauseous he doubted it had anything to do with the liquor he had downed, he was normally quite able to drink Wilson…most people actually…under the table. It was an ability he was quite proud of really.

"You sure?"

Damn Wilson for being his normal overly caring self even when slightly drunk.

"Yes, Damnit! Now shut up and pour me another shot."

"Pour it yourself." Wilson stuck his tongue out petulantly at House.

House got his revenge by swiping his friend's newly filled glass out from under said friend's nose, downing the lot in one go.

"Hey!"

"Oh I'm sorry was that YOUR glass?"

"Yes!"

"Well technically, we are at my place…and that means it's my glass…so…" House stuck his tongue out triumphantly.

Wilson spent several seconds trying to think of a suitable retort for this before giving up with a greatly exaggerated show of resignation. He snickered and sat up straighter, waving his hands to get House's attention.

"Hey! I've got an idea! I swear I've been hanging around you far too much, but you know how you like to do those 'experiments' with people? Like how you tested to see how much I'd loan you? We could really mess with people's minds at the hospital if we made them think we WERE dating."

"Wilson…you're gay aren't you." House said derisively as he shuffled along the sofa until he had put a safe distance between them, deliberately overacting, mocking his own sudden need for space.

"What? No! And…what if I was? Would you still be my friend?" How deep was their friendship after all? Wilson looked curious.

"I don't give a flying fart so long as you don't hit on me." House snarked, he seemed uncomfortable with this conversation.

'Ooh…' The mischievous side of Wilson came to the fore, 'I could have some fun with this.'

He fluttered his eyelashes at House and moved along the couch, crowding House's personal space, throwing an arm over his friend's shoulders.

House remained immobile, frozen. Wilson drew back.

"House? I was just kidding, yanking your chain. Man! And you really fell for it too!...House?..."

House was pale, he was breathing too fast and Wilson reached out to take his pulse, only to be pushed violently away.

"Don't…don't touch me."

"House?"

'Oh God, I can feel his concern, it's suffocating, gotta get away from him before…before…'

"Get…out." He said between clenched teeth.

"House, come on, it was just a joke."

"Get the fuck out!" He was shaking so badly it was visible now, hopefully Wilson would figure it was anger.

"Fine…"

Wilson always gave in so easily, House let out a wobbly sigh of relief as his best friend left.

Avoidance was the key, he turned on the television but this time the soaps were not enough and there were no medical mysteries on offer at work. No escape.

The shaking increased. He stood, intending to leave, go to a bar, get plastered…forget, but in his state of panic he bumped his right leg into the coffee table and collapsed in a cascade of swear words and pain.

The memories attacked him while he was down and he was lost.

Hands. Big hands… bigger than his… he tried to push them away…

Hands…touching…feeling…groping…how could anyone feel comfortable with human touch after this?

"No…Dad…don't…" The words were desperate, but the memories still had him and he crawled to a corner of the room and shook, swore and, after a time, he cried.

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_Author's Note: I would hate for anyone to think that it was anyone in my family who was responsible for my personal experience, it was however a close, trusted friend who I mostly only ever saw in a 'safe' place. Hah! Feels safe now people. mutters and goes off in search of chocolate_

_ Hrm...should I continue or run away and hide?  
_


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you so much for all the encouraging reviews :) Reviewers are just lovely people, my faaaaaveourite kind. _

_Seriously, thanks, you gave me the courage to write more. (Whether you'll regret that if this chapter is totally horrible I don't know! lol)_

_Read on oh wonderful readers, and please review and tell me how I might improve my writing._**  
**

**Chapter 2!**

"I forgot my jacket House! Let me in, it's cold out here!" Wilson had debated for several long minutes whether he should bother going back for the jacket but, damn it, it was a cold night and he was freezing besides House had been acting strange even for him…he had to admit to himself that he had actually left the jacket behind on purpose to provide an excuse to come back and check on House.

Wilson came bursting through the door, worried beyond belief that House hadn't answered the door or even made a sound all the time he had been knocking on the door and yelling.

He stopped, suddenly colder than ever, shocked at the sight before him.

"House? Oh my God! House! Stop it!"

House was sitting curled up in a corner, rhythmically banging his head on the wall and swallowing pills, too many pills. That bottle had been full this morning and was now nearly empty.

Wilson dashed over to his friend and pulled the bottle from his grasp.

"No pain, no pain." House was almost giggling now, already dangerously high. "Can't hurt me now Dad! No pain!"

Dragging House to his feet, Wilson hurried them into the bathroom with House staggering happily all the way. Dumping him down near the toilet bowl Wilson unceremoniously stuck his fingers down his friend's throat, barely avoiding getting covered by the inevitable outpouring that followed.

"Damn it, House! What were you thinking?"

"No pain." House said with all the solemness of a sick child.

Wilson's face softened, glad to hear a coherent answer, "You're lucky I haven't rung for an ambulance yet."

He glanced at the pale face beside him, noting the red eyes and dry tear tracks and reconsidered. "I still might."

"No …you wouldn't…Cuddy would find out…bros before hoes..." It was a very weak attempt at a joke but Wilson was relieved to see a sign of the normal House.

Wilson sighed, knowing full well that the only way House was going to hospital for any reason other than work was if he was unconscious and therefore had no say in the matter.

A few minutes of miserable silence passed in the world of House before he spoke up.

"Why did you come back?"

"I just felt something was wrong…I was worried about you."

House grimaced.

"What is it with you people?"

"Huh?"

"Is there some kind of radar some people have?"

Wilson looked even more confused.

House made a couple of very convincing, albeit mocking, sounding radar blipping noises.

"Beep…beep…" He pretended to hone in on himself. "Captain the hurt radar is picking up something! Hurt person at 10 o'clock!"

"First Cameron thinks she can fix me and then 'rape girl' uses her unerring radar and homes in on me too…because," he made quoting gestures with his fingers, "'it's like you're hurt too.' Well I'm not! I'm perfectly fine, or I would be if everyone would just leave me alone."

"Wait…I just saved your life here and you're telling me that you're fine and you want me to leave you alone?"

Wilson looked deeply thoughtful and held up a hand to stop whatever House had to say next and, as a testament to how awful House was feeling, he actually shut up.

"Was she right?"

"Who?"

"Eve was her name wasn't it? Are you 'hurt too'?"

"Who isn't?"

"That's not a real answer House."

"Define real."

"Listen, House, you can't avoid things forever or whatever happened out there tonight is going to happen again and I might not be around to help next time and …that scares the shit out of me..."

"What do you know about what happened anyway! Maybe my leg was worse than usual and I accidentally took too many pills."

Wilson looked at him calculatingly. "I heard you talking…you mentioned your dad…"

House paled suddenly and turned back to the porcelain bowl, dry retching, one hand waving off an anxiously hovering Wilson.

When he was finished he stayed leaning on the coolness of bowl, trying to ignore the waves of concern coming from his best friend.

"Why do people always want you to talk about the bad things?" House croaked the words, "like it'll make you feel better, it doesn't. You talk about it and you feel sick, shaky and just…you feel like crap."

"But you DO feel better in the end, I've been to marriage counselling and that's what one counsellor told me, she said it always helps to talk to someone even if you feel like crap for days while your mind accepts things, its better than bottling it up for years surely!"

"Yeah well I think divorce is a little different to having your Dad rape and abuse you countless times while you're only a stupid, trusting little kid…" House realised what he had said and panicked. "Damn, what did they put in those pills? Truth serum?"

"House…shit…I mean… your Dad…he…" Wilson was actually considering committing murder.

House put on a fake voice, parroting words he had obviously heard too many times.

"He's a wonderful man, a real hero." he practically hissed the last word.

Wilson still had not put his scattered wits back together when he remembered something…

"And I made you see him when they visited…"

"Yes," House's voice was suddenly grim, "You did. And he asked all the usual questions about what I do outside of work…you know…any 'babes'? Perfectly normal conversation for a Dad to have with his single son except when you see the look in his eyes…"

"I'm so sorry, House." Wilson was blinking back tears.

House eyed him as you would a dangerous wild creature, "You're not going to get all emotional now are you?" He pretended to be terrified by the mere idea of it.

Wilson, sensing House's desperate need to avoid emotions right now, choked forth an artificial laugh.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

House tried to hold back the sniffle, he really did.

"Damn I must be catching the flu, think Cuddy'll give me a few days off clinic duty?"

Wilson shuffled closer slowly, allowing plenty of time for House to snark him into backing off. Placing a careful arm over his friend's shoulders, he was surprised when House suddenly wilted into the embrace.

A voice muffled by the shoulder it was buried in spoke up, "You realise that if you tell anyone about this I'll have to kill you..."

Wilson just rolled his eyes.

**The end...i think..**


End file.
